2010
by Orange-Lemons
Summary: In the year 2010, the world is in a state of all-out war. Japan, an invaded country, is no longer safe for civilians. And Yami Motou is caught in the middle of it all... Yaoi, etc.
1. Iraq, the 21st Century Balkans

**Welcome, one and all, to my latest work of fiction!** A bit more on the angsty side of things, really. Now, I've posted the Prologue and the first chapter, so here you have a choice!

Choice No. 1: If you want to know the global state of things in my fic, read the prologue.  
Choice No. 2: If you just want to read the good plot-sy bits (with bishounens included!), skip right ahead! It's your move... (lol...)

**Disclaimer:** (this one is for the whole fic. I hate these things. also, read this and you'll find out the pairing of this story. so don't read it. as if you couldn't guess anyway...) The characters of Seto Kaiba, Yami Motou, Yugi Motou and Mokuba Kaiba do not belong to me. The Setting of "Domino City" and the company of "Kaiba Corporation" are also creations of Kazuki Takahashi. There, I said it.

**Warnings:** I'll do this the Aussie way! - Small things amuse small minds... anyway...  
This fiction is rated MA for Mature audiences. It contains Violence, Sex Scenes, Nudity, Coarse Language, and Adult Themes (and possibly some Drug Abuse...)  
Any complaints, I will take them into account if sent in an email, constructive criticism is good in reviews, but if you flame me I will nuke the hell outta you... heh.

**Dedicated:** to my bestest buds, who share many of my political views. Means they're s-m-a-t! Fic inspired by George W. Bush and my own _darling_ Prime Minister, John Howard.

** Fic revised 6th May, 2005**

* * *

**PROLOGUE: Iraq, the 21st Century Balkans...**

In mid-2003 AD, the United States of America embarked on what its government claimed was a "liberating" war on a suffering Middle-Eastern country. Flanked by her British and Australian allies, it removed Iraq's dictator and replaced him with a forced democracy. Suspiscion of a more sinister objective to America's actions led the war to be condemned by the United Nations, and a subject of much debate.

As a result of the invasion, strong anti-coalition feeling built in Iraq and neighbouring countries. There was a surge in Al Qaeda activity. Suicide bombings were reported in record numbers in Europe and America. In November 2007, the allies retaliated, despite severe warnings from France and Russia. It was the beginning of a new holy war; Muslims once again fighting Christians.

After two months of steady bombing and a change of government in Britain, the Royal Army pulled out, leaving the US down an ally. Despite this "minor set-back", it was predicted the conflict would be resolved by 2009.

Meanwhile, Asia had not been idle. China's steadily rising economy had given her the capacity to challenge the States as the world superpower. The USA, realising too late China's power, declared war on China and her ally North Korea, another of her "Pre-emptive Strikes". This time, Japan was by her side. Her close proximity to China made her an important asset to the United States.

But the US did not have the resources to fight two wars simultaneously. While she had access to more sophisticated technology, Asian forces had her troops far outnumbered. In an effort to end the war in the Middle East, America dropped two atomic bombs in the Middle East; one in Afghanistan and one in Sudan.

China and America both had nuclear capability, leaving the rest of the world in fear of a nuclear war. The European Union, under pressure to "join sides", met for an emergency meeting on June 25th, 2009. To public surprise, the governments of France, Russia, Germany and Britain, decided to stand alone in the war; that is, fight the EU's own battle for world domination.

July 8th, 2009 AD. World War Three Begins...


	2. Violence is a Criminal Offence

**CHAPTER 1: Violence is a criminal offence.**

Yami unzipped the fly on his tight leather hipsters, wishing, not for the first time, that he had chosen more comfortable clothes to be caught and captured in. Although, they were looking a little worse for wear now; they had tears up and down his legs and thighs, and his shirt was beyond filthy. He wondered vaguely, as he huddled in the corner of his cell, how long he'd been in that god-foresaken cess-pool? Not that it mattered; any time was far too long, and he held little hope of being released in the near future. 

4 months after the war began, the enemy had invaded Japan. And when they'd come to take them to a 'camp'... Well, Yami hadn't reacted too well. For a man so slight he was strong, and had taken down about six soldiers before they'd subdued him. Consequently, he had ended up here; alone in a dank cell, pissing on the wall next to his cot. He laughed bitterly. Who'd have thought it of Egypt's greatest ever Pharaoh? One who'd survived even death was now caged like an animal, helpless to protect those who needed him. 

He hoped Yugi was coping. When they'd taken Yami in, Yugi had been nowhere in sight. Yami hoped he'd escaped, but he rather suspected he was in a camp. Of course, Yugi was grown up, and could undoubtedly take care of himself, Yami reminded himself. But still, it unsettled him, not knowing if his hikari was suffering. Their mind-link, which had faded slightly when Yami had been granted his own body, was far too weak to communicate through. He was sick with worry for the boy he'd sworn to protect, those many years ago. 

But oddly enough, the idea Yugi was in danger, and the desire to find and save him, was all that kept Yami sane in the monotony of his prison cell. Day in, day out, the same cot, the same moss on the wall, the same rationed rice. He couldn't talk to the guards; they were foreigners, and likely to beat you if you caused a commotion, talked, or breathed too loud. As Yami had discovered the hard way - and he still had the scars to prove it. 

The sound of sobbing rang through the prison, sending shivers down his spine. It was horrible, what months of imprisonment did to one. Some of the prisoners lost the will to eat, to breathe, to live. The prison guard would find them dead one day, having starved themselves to death. Another casualty in a senseless war for power. Another statistic to be analysed in a high school history lesson, years after. Another rotting corpse to feed the worms... 

The sobs grew louder, eventually gaining the attention of the guard. Yami leant against the cool, steel bars, straining to see what would happen. He wished he hadn't. The guard beat the broken man with the butt of his rifle; again, and again, until he slipped against the cell wall, a heap of blubbering, bloody mass. There was a cakle of laughter. Yami glared at the guard as he strode past, swinging his gun. 

Unfortunately, the warden noticed, and he doubled back past the Pharaoh's cell. He grasped a handful of tri-coloured hair, and pulled Yami hard against the bars. He snarled something at him which Yami could not understand, and spat in his face. Yami knew better than to retaliate. He really did. But the smug look on that cowards face made his blood boil... 

He brought a knee up through the iron bars, catching the guard exactly where he'd wanted too. What sort of weak, cowardly human being beat an unarmed p.o.w. like that? Sick bastard. Yami would make sure that git got everything he deserved. He aimed another kick through the bars, his lean figure coming in handy for once. 

But the guard was faster this time, and dodged it. His dignity was hurt, though, and it looked as though Yami was going to suffer the consequences. The warden unlocked the cell door, lifting his gun, preparing to strike. Yami backed towards the wall, then stopped. He would not show fear - he would not give the bastard the pleasure of seeing him squirm. He glared defensively into the cold, green eyes of the guard. 

The first blow came hard and fast, narrowly missing his head, catching him on the shoulder. A sharp pain shot through his arm, but he wouldn't flinch. Angered, the guard struck again, and Yami fell, head throbbing. He could feel blood rushing through his temple, the impact already causing a bruise. The warden cursed him, kicking him in the stomach, and then in the chest, each blow harder and with more momentum. He wheezed, but would not cry out. He would not show weakness. 

After a final kick of steel-capped boots, the guard lost interest, and, spitting on him once more, he retired to his station. Breathing heavily, Yami waited until the sound of footsteps stopped, before clambering painfully onto his cot. He curled up, nursing his bruising chest and stomach, shivering with cold and pain. One day soon, he would get out. He would find Yugi. He wouldn't sit around waiting for the goverments to declare peace, for all the "Oh, sorry for blowing the shit out of your country," crap. He would fight. And pity anyone who got in his way. 

One day. The words echoed through his mind as he drifted into disturbed dreams. People were crying, crying all around. The stench of dried blood hung in the dusty air. "Yugi!" he called into the mourning silence. He was alone, alone in the misery and the cold. He had to save his hikari, but how could he save Yugi when he was the one in need? How could he save him when he was bruised and beaten, and alone... always alone... 

There was a crash, and it took a moment for Yami to realise it had come from his cell door, rather than his dream. Voices were coming from just outside it, speaking in Japanese for once. Yami wiped the tears collecting in his eyelashes, and cocked an ear, pretending to be asleep. 

"There _are_ no other cells! Just shove him in with someone. Or you could shoot him..." There was a harsh burst of laughter. "Your choice." 

"But the general said..." 

"Screw the general! What does he care? Just gives orders from his office, drinking champagne and fucking his bitches. Doesn't have anything to do with the war. We're the ones doing his dirty work." 

There was a pause, in which the other man seemed to come to a decision. "Allright. You!" he barked, obviously to another prisoner. "Get in there! And no fucking us around, or..." A rifle shot rang through the steel-grey corridor, echoing in the grave silence. The prison guards laughed mercilessly once more. 

There was a thud, and the familiar clang of his cell door closing. Yami opened his eyes. There was someone there, huddled in the corner, shivering like mad. He checked for the guards, but they seemed to have left. Creeping closer, he saw it was a man, about 23 years old. He was deathly white, and his hair was tangled and covering his face. He had the look of a fit man who'd suddenly lost a lot of weight. Yami kneeled beside him, and still panting from his injuries, gingerely drew back the curtain of locks. He peered into the face of his new cell mate curiously. 

A flicker of recognition passed in red ruby eyes, and he stumbled backwards, gasping. "You!"


	3. In Sickness, and in Health

**Chapter 2: In Sickness, and in Health.**  
  
"What are _you_ doing here, Kaiba?" Yami yelped, forgetting to be quiet. He nervously checked for guards again, in a remarkably squirrel-like manoeuvre, but they were no where in sight. He composed himself, lowering his voice. "Shit, I haven't seen you in _years_! How'd you end up in here?"  
  
There was no response. Kaiba's shivering was growing ever more violent, his lips trembling, arms drawn tight around himself. Yami placed a tentative hand upon the brunette's forehead, and swore. His skin was burning to the touch. "Kaiba," he whispered, more to himself than the other. "What've you done to yourself?"  
  
He lifted him - albeit rather difficultly - onto the cot, and covered him in the thin blanket. He deftly undid his own shirt, draping it over the other man's chest. But two thin fabrics were no way enough to keep Kaiba warm. Yami shifted his weight from leg to leg, searching for more means of warmth.  
  
"This would be a lot easier if I still had magic," he mumbled, looking down upon the sick man. He was still shivering, his skin as white as chalk. Yami was struck by just how much his features had matured, his eyelashes lacing high cheekbones, mouth slightly open. His rival had struck him as a beauty from the moment they met. A rather arrogant, difficult beauty, but a beauty nonetheless. Then again, now was _definitely_ not the time.  
  
"C-c-cold..." Seto stuttered, holding his blanket closer to his skin. Yami felt a twinge in his stomach. Maybe he should call the guard? Ask for another blanket? He snorted; may as well ask for the key to the cell, really. And a helicopter to find Yugi in. It just wasn't gonna happen. He looked around his miserably empty cell. There was one possibility...  
  
Yami hesitated, then shrugged, climbing carefully onto the cot. The only other warm thing in the cell was himself. He wasn't exactly comfortable with becoming a human blanket, especially for Kaiba, but he had to do something. He wrapped his arms around Kaiba's torso, noticing the other's shivers calming ever so slightly.

"Y-Yugi?"  
  
"No, I'm Yami - his other half." He'd gone through this many a time with Kaiba, though for one reason or another, he'd always end up wanting to claw the man's eyes out. He was usually stopped by the fact they were such _pretty_ eyes. Ahem... "You're sick; go to sleep. I'm watching over you."   
  
The other's harsh breathing slowed gradually as Kaiba drifted off to sleep, leaving Yami holding him rather rigidly. He grimaced, imagining the look on Jou's face if he could see him now. Which, of course, reminded him of his friends, and the times they shared together. He longed for those years, a time when the only thing you cared about was whether or not you lost a card game. True, there was some weird shit going on at the time, but Yami had never worried about his hikari and his friends as much as he did now.   
  
Eventually, the Pharaoh was satisfied Kaiba could maintain a normal body temperature, and awkwardly wriggled out of the cot. He sat down, tracing designs in the dirt. Of course, once Kaiba was better, Yami would probably benefit from the company, even if some demented divine power had stuck him in a 10ft long cell with his greatest rival. But then again, there was only one bed, one 'toilet', and no extra room. No doubt it would be rather... _squished_. There too was the problem of food; Yami had a horrible suspicion that, since there was only supposed to be one prisoner per cell, they would not be getting extra rations...  
  
As if to answer his thoughts, a bowl of plain rice was pushed through the bars. One single bowl of rice. Yami looked at it longingly, his stomach growling at him in protest. But he couldn't eat it while Kaiba was sick; he would need all the strength he could get. Besides, the CEO looked even thinner than Yami felt. Which, he thought, as his stomach twisted at him again, was really saying something. He put the rice away, vowing to wake Kaiba in a few hours, to feed him.  
  
He paced his cell, at a loss for things to keep himself occupied, becoming slightly dizzy as he followed the circular path he usually trod, when in one of his moods. He occasionally stole a look at his inmate. Kaiba had a few scars here and there, and a bruise just below his temple. Yami knew him to be a force to be reckoned with, not only physically but mentally, and certainly strategically. And once spurred on by a purpose, Kaiba would be sure to stick it through to the end, whatever end that may be. It was surprising they'd managed to capture him at all.

Though, Yami flattered himself, the same could be said for him.

After what seemed like a month, but was probably no more than an hour, he was bored, and so decided Kaiba was hungry. He crept closer to his snoozing adversary. He prodded him once; twice; three times - but still he slept. He called his name, but to no avail. Making a mental note not to let Kaiba sleep in an emergency, he blew in his ear. Seto jumped.

"What the _fuck_?"  
  
Yami grinned despite himself. "Supper time." He scooped some rice in a spoon, holding it to Kaiba's pouty mouth.  
  
"I can do it," Kaiba snapped, glaring at him, seeming slightly more himself. Yami held his arms up in surrender. Seto took the spoon, his hand shaking. Metal clanged against the concrete floor, the Western cutlery falling to the floor. Kaiba swore colourfully, and rather loudly.  
  
"_Shut up_! The guards will hear, you stubborn ass!" Yami warily checked behind him, before holding another spoonful to the brunette's lips. "You need food. Open up." He said it with the air of a kindergarten teacher, scolding an impatient child for the umpteenth time. Kaiba looked as though he would very much like to tell Yami to shove it up his arse, but thankfully allowed him to help. A few minutes of awkward silence preceeded, Yami growing more uncomfortable with every spoonful. 'Just as well there are only about five spoonfuls anyway,' he thought sarcastically.  
  
The 'meal' finished, and Kaiba was obviously still in a foul mood. Yami left him to himself, putting the bowl back near the bars, where the guards would collect it on their next patrol.   
  
"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" Kaiba asked abruptly, a bored tone lurking in his deep, melodic voice.  
  
"I gave it to you." Yami felt this probably wasn't the best time to be snappy, but when the first person you've spoken to in months is both unbelievably annoying and disturbingly handsome, things don't always come out quite right...  
  
Kaiba looked down, noticing the frayed top for the first time. "Oh. Do you want it back?"  
  
"No."  
  
Kaiba shrugged, and wriggled back under the blanket. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Thankyou, Yugi."  
  
Yami made a face, poking his middle finger up at Kaiba's back. "It's Yami, you ungrateful bastard," he hissed under his breath.


	4. Speaking of the Past

This chapter has been edited, 6th May 2005

**CHAPTER 3: Speaking of the Past...**

It was dark, but darkness was a blessing these days. The only thing Yami regretted was his inability to see the face he knew to be inches from his own; but he could feel the warm breath, soft upon his cheeks. He knew the mouth it came from to be warm and sweet, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness of the cell. He knew their flavour, their texture; and he craved their intoxicating power. Somehow, every slight caress of those unseen lips reached a part of Yami's soul he had believed dead from the long months' imprisonment...

His fingers hesitantly tripped around supple skin, to the nape of his lover's neck. He pressed his fingertips down, bringing those lips towards his own, eagerness making him clumsy. He could feel laughter in their kiss; laughter at his own lack of self control. But he needed this, more than anything in the world. He needed to be touched, to be held, to be kissed, because it was all that kept him sane.

A tongue brushed over his teeth, and a hand rested on his naked chest. Beneath the skin, Yami's heart skipped a beat, lost in the intense passion of the kiss. But his lover was drawing away; he was leaving...

"No!" cried Yami, clawing at the warm skin he had held moments before. But his fingers could no longer grasp what they had touched so intimately. He was losing his love to the darkness, and he knew that he was alone again. Alone, when loneliness was what he feared most of all...

He moaned, reaching blindly, his eyes opening wide. To his surprise, he could see... But he felt groggy, and there was sleep in his tired eyes. He had been dreaming.

He glanced around his cell, eyes falling upon his fellow prisoner. Kaiba was sitting, watching intently, and obviously had been for a while. Yami felt a slight flush creep up his neck.

"You were dreaming."

"I know."

"What about?"

"I don't want to talk about it." The deep blue eyes remained upon him, but he kept his face impassive. The silence spread between them, a river of unspoken thoughts creeping into the shadows, becoming steadily more uncomfortable. Yami finally felt he had to break it. "So, Kaiba, how did you end up in here?"

He had refrained from asking the question this past week; despite being desperately curious to know. Now, however, Seto Kaiba was without a doubt feeling better, and Yami felt that after all his care, he was due something other than the usual stony silence religiously observed.

Not that they were uncivil; when you're trapped in a prison cell, guarded by enemy soldiers, petty differences had to be ignored as much as possible. Sometimes Yami got the feeling that Kaiba's arrogance and icy disposition were just a façade to a more emotional, vulnerable inner spirit. Of course, at other times, the taller male managed to make his blood boil beyond reason.

"How did you come to be here, Yami?"

He noted the use of his real name, with a grudging smile. On what Yami supposed was the fourth day since his arrival, he had finally lost it with Kaiba, who continually called him by his hikari's name. After ranting for about five minutes, he had noticed the slight smirk playing about the other's lips. Yami realised Kaiba had been winding him up the whole time, and had gone off at him for even longer, calling him 'immature', and other, slightly more crude names.

"Well..." Yami began hesitantly, "when the enemy were rounding up civilians to put in... I think they said they were camps...? They came to take Yugi and I, so I fought them. Took down a few, too, before they knocked me out and dragged me in here. I haven't seen Yugi since..."

"You're worried about him?" His voice was soft, and Yami remembered Kaiba would understand, having the responsibility of an innocent loved one to protect.

He nodded. "Are you worried about Mokuba?"

"No. I know Mokuba is safe. Safer, perhaps, than most people in the world at the moment."

Yami quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

"It's a long story."

Yami looked around the cell, a dry grin tugging at his lips. "As far as I can tell, time is not much of a concern."

This, Kaiba could not argue with. He sighed, linking his hands between his head for support, a thoughtful frown gracing his fair features. "This war was not a surprise, Yami. It has been a long, long time in the brewing; over a decade, at least. When China began rising as another economic superpower, the United States felt threatened and began searching for allies to decide supremacy through warfare. Japan answered the call. Every major economical and political event that has occured over the past few years has been the result of preparations for this war.

"I was indoctrined to the true foreign policy a few years ago; the government approached me to begin the production of weapons again, as Kaiba Corporation were once famous for. Well, obviously, I told them to stick it. But it seemed they had a certain... leverage."

Yami grimaced. "They threatened Mokuba?"

"Yes and no. They didn't threaten to harm him, per se. But they promised that, with the inevitability of war upon us, they could provide somewhere safe for him. If I complied to their terms, that is. So Kaiba Corporation, for the last four years, has been mass-producing highly electronic 'smart' weapons. And I have, in turn, been an active part of world politics to date.

"Which was all well and good, until Japan was invaded. Obviously, they wanted our manufacturing sites out of the way; and they wanted me...

"I too put up a fight - but, obviously, not enough of one." Yami could detect a slight note of shame in his voice. He knew Kaiba's pride was important to him, and could whole-heartedly relate. Yami felt more sorry for his rival than he had in a long time. "They captured me, and I was left in a tiny derelict cell, half open to the elements. It was so cold at night..."

Yami nodded, but remained silent. He got the feeling Kaiba was talking as much to himself as to Yami, and didn't want to lose this rare opportunity to see Kaiba with his guard down. "Some Japanese guerillas stormed the prison one night - in the chaos I managed to slip away. I had just cleared the area when I was recaptured by another regiment. Thankfully, they didn't seem to realise who I was, so they just crammed me in anywhere, I suppose."

He looked up, seeming to remember Yami's presence. "But how long have you been here?"

"A couple of months, I'd guess. Hard to tell in here, isn't it?"

Kaiba looked at him steadily, taking in the black-eye and cut lip, stilll prominent from his beating. "And your injuries?"

Yami flushed again, ducking his chin, hiding the threat of a blush creeping up his neck. "I lost my temper, and kicked one of the guards... he had been beating one of the other prisoners..."

Yami noticed the ghost of a smile flash deep within those shimmering ocean eyes; even as his features remained their usual blank and unreadable. There was something of the teenage duellist he had once been, still lingering in his aura. It was somehow reassuring; even after all this time, after all that had happened in the world, some things could not and would not be changed.

Kaiba lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Yami couldn't help but shiver at his tone. "So, now we know how we cam to be in here... How are we getting out?"

It took a moment for Kaiba's use of the word 'we' to register. Yami knew Kaiba was and always would be an independent soul. He was the sort of person who would never rely on another, nor would offer his own assistance or even attention lightly. So when he did notice the collective term, he couldn't help but smile to himself.

He wasn't alone, after all.


	5. Fit, But You Know It

**Chapter 4: Fit, But You Know It.**

"Sixty-three... Sixty-four... Sixty-five..."

Yami wiped away the small beads of sweat forming on his brow with the back of his hand, and exhaled slowly. His arms were screaming at him in protest, but he continued his push ups. After all, he didn't want to look weak in front of Seto Kaiba. It just wasn't an option. He glanced up, but the brunette was staring outside the cell; probably looking for guards.

"Seventy... Seventy-one..."

The exercise routine was Kaiba's idea. While they still had no idea how to get out of their prison, Kaiba reasoned they should stay as fit as they could, should an opportunity to escape arise. Of course, with a single bowl of rice between them per day, the food situation was critical. Yami had, at one stage, seriously considered the nutritional value of his fingers, but by then he was already so thin his fingers were mere skin and bone. And there were very few parts of his anatomy he was willing to sacrifice.

"Eighty-nine..."

"C'mon, Yami, you're slowing down. You only have eleven to go, don't be so slack. Or are you just weak?"

Irritated, Yami made a rather rude gesture with his finger, while continuing his push ups on one arm. He had over-estimated his strength, however, and fell to the floor, slightly winding himself. Kaiba spluttered a laugh, and stood over the ancient one.

"Well, your Majesty, King of Games, didn't you just make an arse of yourself?"

"Fuck off, Kaiba." Yami sat up, rubbing his chest where it had hit the stone floor. By all appearances, the relationship between the old rivals had remained the same. They still bickered; always over petty, childish remarks. Yet there was no venom in their words, and while Yami repeatedly and vehemently told Kaiba to fuck off every day, it was obvious that if Kaiba were to leave, Yami would be rather upset indeed.

He liked to think Kaiba felt similarly - he certainly didn't hate Yami, which was a vast improvement. Yami spent a lot of time pondering the young man. Three months after his arrival in Yami's cell, all traces of illness had completely left him. Apart from the dirty clothes and unusual slightness of his figure, he looked little different to the businessman Yami had duelled so often. He still maintained his icy walls, keeping the world out.

Sometimes, when they were talking, or training together, Yami flattered himself he was able to see small openings in the young man's façade. But they were so few and far between, he began to wonder if Kaiba was opening up at all; whether it was just wishful thinking. Yami longed to get past those walls, to see Kaiba as only his little brother was able to.

For Yami loved Kaiba. He was sure of it now, though it had taken some time to realise, and even longer to admit to himself. He had always been physically attracted to the CEO - who wouldn't be? But, before the invasion, he had held Kaiba in such contempt as to not even consider feelings beyond a lust for his body. Now, though, after sharing the same three foot living space for endless months, after suffering alongside him, after watching him sleep...

It is often said, that when two people share a traumatic or dangerous experience, they build up an extremely strong bond. In Yami's opinion, 'extremely strong bond' didn't even come close to the way he felt. It was a physical pain somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach; a constant need coursing through his veins.

"Yami? You're off in a dreamworld again. As I recall, you still owe me eleven push ups."

Yami sprang to his feet, and before he knew what he was doing, had decked Kaiba. The other blinked, a fleeting look of surprise dashing across his features. Yami, too, was shocked - he literally did not know where that had come from. He supposed it was suppressed feelings; though this was hardly consolation, as he seemed to be suppressing far more sexual desires than feelings of anger...

Kaiba's brief surprise was quickly replaced by amusement. "You think you can take me, Yami?"

Ignoring the slight innuendo, Yami rose to the challenge. "With two hands and two legs tied behind my back."

"Oh, really?" Kaiba grinned, before raising a fist to Yami's temple. Yami ducked, turning slightly to avoid the other's second assault. He went to hit Kaiba again, but this time he was too slow, and his arm was caught in a tight lock behind his back. Kaiba pushed him up against the wall, the Pharaoh's cheek grazing against the cool stone wall. He struggled against the taller man, but could not release himself from his grip. Kaiba laughed softly in Yami's ear.

"Bastard," Yami spat.

"You always were a sore loser, Yami."

"How would you know, Kaiba? You've never beaten me."

"Last I checked, it was you pinned against the wall."

Yami pushed off the wall hard, wrestling with the other, trying to free himself. Kaiba's extra height set Yami at a disadvantage, but he disregarded the odds, as he was prone to doing. He was winning, at least for a little while; but then Kaiba made a come back, eventually managing to push Yami onto the cot.

Yami writhed and squirmed, in an attempt to get away from the other. Kaiba launched himself at Yami's wrists, holding them tight. They were at a deadlock, Kaiba on top of Yami in their little cot. Throwing all his weight behind him, Yami heaved upwards, but once again, Kaiba was too fast for him. Yami felt his arms pinned by two heavy objects - upon closer inspection, they were Kaiba's knees.

The situation hit Yami like a dragonfly hits a windscreen. He was in a bed, with a sweaty and disshevelled Kaiba sitting on top of him. Both were shirtless, and both were panting as if they had run a marathon. Or...

"Ha, ha, ha. I win."

Yami remained silent. On either side of his body, he could feel Kaiba's strong thighs holding him in place. Sweat was glistening in the dim light, clinging to his pale, heaving chest as he breathed. His beautiful blue eyes remained locked on Yami's red, and just for an instant, Yami could see further into Seto Kaiba's soul than ever before.

The clash of steel on steel broke the moment, and both looked over to the bars, where a bowl of rice and a pathetic looking plastic spork had been left.

"I had it yesterday. It's your's today," Yami muttered. Kaiba nodded, and wordlessly climbed off the other man. Yami hastily removed himself from the cot, and returned to his spot on the floor.

"Ninety... Ninety-one... Ninety-two..."

- - - - - -

A/N - sorry guys, I haven't really been updating much... ... ... ok, at all. There have been all sorts of exams and camps and formals, though, and life has been a little hectic... and i'm a little lazy. I know this is short, but expect more updates from now on, ok? I'll try and do B&R and get Hurtful Exclusions part I up next, ok? kewl.


	6. Men Behaving Badly

**Chapter 5: Men Behaving Badly **

Five fingers, pale and delicate in the moonlight, crept slowly up his thigh. Another's naked body moved against his own, slick sweat sliding between them, raising his body temperature, driving him wild. His back arched, granting his dream lover greater access to his body and all its sensitive parts. Yami twisted his fingers in chestnut locks, pulling those moist, boyish lips closer to his own.

Part of him knew it was a dream; most of him didn't care. He needed to taste those lips, he needed to feel loved, he needed to feel 'free'. He used his tongue to deepen their kiss, exploring every crevice in the now familiar mouth of his dream lover. He almost lived to dream now; waking hours were silent, cold and miserable. Kaiba had become tight-lipped - or was it Yami who had stopped speaking first? Though they were probably as close as they ever would be, they barely talked, and even more rarely laughed.

He leant in for another kiss, his mouth tingling. He knew his dream lover was Kaiba. He also knew that his dreams could never be a reality. Making love in his dreams was bittersweet and surreal; it was the only thing that kept him sane. Perhaps he was insane to think that way? He pushed his body against Kaiba's and wrapped his legs around his lover's waist.

There was a sharp, metallic clang, and Yami snapped his head around, peering outside of his cell. When he turned back, his lover was gone. "No..." he whispered. Reality came crashing upon him in waves; his dank cell, his suffering body, his helplessness, all painfully brought into relief. "Come back. I need you."

He could feel tears stinging in his eyes, and a moan escaped his lips.

"Yami?" A silky voice from behind. How could Kaiba's voice remain so... so _normal_ after all this time? A small, lonely drop of water escaped Yami's eyes and trickled down his cheek. He couldn't stand it anymore. He had survived three millennia for what? To rot in a god-forsaken shit-hole until his body became weak, and finally died? A second tear leaked from the corner of his eye.

Kaiba called his name again. The way his name fell from those lips... Yami shuddered. "Don't cry."

A third tear, and a fourth. He didn't even try to stop them. There was a time (though it seemed millenia away) that he would never show such weakness in front of Kaiba. Now he couldn't care less. Months of darkness and depression pressed in on him; his very soul cowering, exposed and bloodied. And so he cried, his arms wrapped around his too-thin torso, silent sobs wracking his sick, frail and malnourished body.

"Yami..." Kaiba's voice was almost condescending, so much like Kaiba the rival, Kaiba the opponent. Kaiba, the only man between Yami and his destiny. After months of living and sleeping in the same three foot space, was he still no more than a rival? Yami wiped his cheeks with his wrist. "Men don't cry."

Yami barked a laugh, dripping with bitterness, and stood facing Kaiba. "Men don't cry, eh? So what do _men_ do, Kaiba, when all hope is lost? What do men do as they watch their life slip away from them each day, and what do they do as they see death creep closer each night? Look at yourself. You are wasting away. You haven't bathed in months. You sleep in your own faeces. You have no hope. You are dying. We are going to die here!" He was almost hysterical now, hissing at the shadow of a man before him. "So what do you do, as a _man_, Kaiba? Tell me!"

Silence stretched out before them, each second containing an eternity. Yami searched Kaiba's eyes, suddenly shocked at how lifeless they were. He lowered his own eyes, ashamed of his outburst.

"I'm sorry." It was barely a whisper. Yami looked up again, meeting Kaiba's unwavering gaze. He hadn't been expecting Kaiba to say anything, let alone apologise.

"Don't be."

A hand came up to wipe tears from Yami's face; only this time it was Seto's. Lips descended upon his own, sending an electric charge through his body. This wasn't a dream. He curled his arms around the taller man's neck, leaning in to the embrace. He felt arms drape around his waist. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, feel blood rushing to his cheeks. He could feel his strength returning with this one kiss of life.

The ghost of a smile graced his features as he clung to his prince, feeling more and more like Sleeping Beauty by the minute. Imprisoned by the wicked witch of government's greed and war-mongering, his mock-dead soul was being dragged back to the light by this confused, instinctive, pure embrace.

For the second time, the clang of metal on metal broke his kiss. Both men turned to face a group of three guards leering at them, opening the cell door. Kaiba and Yami dropped their hands from each other's bodies.

Terror rooted Yami to the spot, his heart frozen. The colour drained from his face. As the guards advanced, he braced himself for the first blow.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Yeah. Short. Cliffhangery. Not that well written. But there.

Kind of disgusting in parts, but the reality is, this is war. I personally don't believe humanity has evolved much, that we can do this. But the evidence is there in the headlines, you know? is forcefully removed from soapbox

Oh well. It will all be over by the end of the next chapter... ... ...


	7. DIA

**Hey all again... Ok, few important Author Notes first!** This whole story has been revised, because it was WRONG! I've been sitting home, watching the news and the tensions between Japan and China, thinking 'oh hell I have to re-write all of 2010...' and so, I have. All I have done is changed Japan's alliance with China to one with the United States. It makes more sense that way anyway, which will be more evident in the next chapter. So don't worry about re-reading anything, I try not to villainise any particular nationality anyway, so it is only a technical difficulty, lolz...

Also, **Nachzes Black-Rider** brought my attention to the fact that the war began on July 1st, which is actually Canada Day. I am very, very sorry if I have offended anyone! I was completely oblivious to this and only started it then because it seemed the right sort of day, being the start of a new financial year etc. But having only just managed to memorise my own country's national day as 26th January, it's hardly surprising, hehe. Thus, I have changed it to July 8th, making it 07/08/09 when written the American way, which I thought would be fun.

And finally, I would just like to thank everyone for your wonderful reviews, which always make me very happy and bouncy and smiley, especially considering this is a very... _different_ sort of work. So thank you! hugs everyone Oh and this is dedicated to Sam, because he lends me books and anime, and is very nice, and named my chapter, and said he would like a dedication. Yes. I will get on with the chapter now...

* * *

**CHAPTER 6: D.I.A**

The first hit came to the gut, and Yami buckled. As he leant forward, a heavy blow connected with the back of his head.

"Gah." Another kick to the stomach, as he lay crumpled on the floor. Through clouded vision, he could see Seto, hands laced on top of his head, a machine gun to his back. Their eyes met briefly, before Yami's attention was forcefully redirected to a pistol pressed against his temple. A small click told him the safety catch had been released.

The final guard sauntered over to where Yami lay on the floor. He pulled him up by the throat, speaking in a language he did not understand. Kaiba, however, blanched, swearing at the guards, desperately shouting at them to leave Yami alone. The gun-wielder behind him pressed the barrel into his back, and Kaiba fell silent.

Yami glared into the cold, grey eyes of the guard defiantly. A harsh bark of laughter erupted from the man's lips, and he crushed the Pharaoh's lips in a crude imitation of Seto's kiss. Hot bile rose up Yami's throat, but he swallowed it, enduring the violation – for now. The guard smirked, breaking the 'kiss' and scooting around behind him, calloused hands hooking underneath the waistband of Yami's old, worn leather pants. He could feel waves of fury coming from Seto, but knew Kaiba could not help him now.

He surreptitiously reached for a grimy metal spork lying inches from his face. He had only one chance... If he just caught them by surprise...

His fingers grasped the utensil. He could hear the ragged breaths of the guard behind him, preparing to... to...

With a roar, he swung upward, driving the metal as hard as he could into the skull of the man with the pistol. It struck his temple, embedding itself with a sickening squelch. The man's eyes rolled back in his head, blood trickling from the three puncture wounds below his hairline. The pistol clattered to the floor, and a shot rang out. Seto seized this opportunity to aim a high kick at his own guard, and with his height and flexibility, rendered him unconscious with one blow. He scooped up the machine gun, and pointed it at the remaining guard.

Another shot echoed around the cell, followed by the thud of a falling body. Blood spattered against the floor of the cell, creating intricate crimson patterns that twinkled eerily in the half-light. Yami stood over the third and final guard, both hands clasping the pistol. He spat on the dead body.

"Bastard."

A few moments silence elapsed. Yami and Kaiba grinned awkwardly at each other.

"How did you manage to kick that high?" Yami eventually asked.

"_I _didn't quit the training program."

Yami glowered. Seto laughed. It sounded more like a choke, but it was reassuring in its own way. "Anyway, Yami. I guess we'd better be going – there'll be more of them, they would have heard the shots..."

"Yeah..." Yami blinked, trying to grasp a hold of the situation. Fifteen minutes ago, he was ready to die; expecting to die. Then he and Seto had kissed, that wonderful, earth-shattering kiss... And now he had killed two people.

He, Yami, had just killed two people. "Oh, fuck..."

"What is it?" Kaiba straightened, clutching a rusty set of keys in his hands. Yami was breathing heavily, staring wide-eyed at the bodies on the floor.

"I killed them," he choked.

Kaiba rolled his eyes. "Come _on_. We have to go, _now_." He grabbed Yami's wrist, just as Yami leant down and pocketed one of the guard's knives. Kaiba pulled him out of the cell, and glanced around furtively. "Right, do you have any experience with guns, at all?" Yami only glared at him. "I mean, besides that little incident in there."

"No. I play cards, Kaiba, not shoot people."

Kaiba smiled ruefully. "Well, I guess you're going to have to start." He nodded to their right, where thundering footsteps could be heard against the concrete floor. "I'll handle the pistol, I've had more practice. You take the machine gun. Point and shoot, it's easy enough." Yami tested the gun's weight, and raised it as Seto had shown him. He didn't like guns.

Yami fingered the knife, far more comfortable with it than the gun he carried. Still, he didn't really want to rely on close combat. He glanced at Kaiba, who had raised the handgun and was squinting through the sight. "Three..." he muttered, remaining deadly still, listening intently. "Two... One..."

The guards rounded the corner, five in total. Both Yami and Kaiba opened fire, the element of surprise on their side. Kaiba took down three in the space of about four seconds. Yami, however, was taken aback (quite literally) by the force of the weapon he held, and dropped it to the floor. The remaining two raised their weapons.

"Run, Kaiba." Yami shouted, and they retreated as fast as their legs could carry them, the rapid-fire of the gun one of their pursuers carried encouraging them. Yami breathed hard, his lungs burning, the months with no exercise taking their toll on his sprinting speed. Up ahead, there was an open cell. This gave him an idea.

Grabbing a hold of one of the bars, he swung himself into the darkness. He slipped the knife into his right hand, and waited.

The guards ran straight past, intent on killing Kaiba. Yami quivered slightly as an image of Seto, pale and bloodied on the ground, flashed across his eyes. Leaping out of the cell, he drove the knife deep into the closer man's back. An anguished gurgle erupted from the his throat, and the other guard turned, and pointed his own pistol at Yami, triumph glinting in his eyes.

Two shots rang out this time, accompanied by the screams of two men.

"Yami!" Seto cried, rushing back to the smaller man. His hand clutched his arm, covered in crimson blood. "Are you alright?"

Yami, still in shock, gave him a withering look. "Oh, yes, I am just _great_. I don't think I have ever felt better in my whole entire life, than I do in this moment." He glanced over at the other man, a bullet hole in the side of his head. "Although, I think he might possibly feel even better than me."

"Stupid boy," Kaiba growled at Yami, although the concern was evident in his voice. "Taking a knife to a gun fight!" He half-smiled, but just briefly, quickly replacing it with a worried frown. "I can't clean you up here, but the exit's not far and I know somewhere we can go. Can you make it?"

Yami nodded, although as he stood an intense wave of pain swept up his limb. It was bleeding freely, and no matter how much pressure he put on it, he couldn't stem the flow. His head swam, and he toppled over, only to be caught by Seto. Sighing, he picked him up, but Yami wriggled free, causing burning pain to wash up his arm.

"Hell no. We'll be too slow. Now let's get out of here." He scooped up another machine gun, and passed it to Kaiba. "You'd better take this." They took to running again, Yami clutching his arm as tight as he could, fighting the dizziness enveloping his senses. His hands were slick with his own blood, which dripped to his fingertips and left a little crimson trail at regular intervals on the floor as they flew down the corridors. Gunfire exploded around him, but Yami felt detached, as if he were watching this all at the cinema. He felt a hand grab his free arm and pull him towards the exit.

In a blaze of bullets, Yami and Seto stumbled out onto the streets, running faster than either had ever even thought possible. A few blocks away, they finally stopped behind a stack of crates in an alleyway. Their lungs screamed at them in pain, and they gulped at the crisp night air for a few minutes.

Finally, Kaiba turned to Yami, an excited little smile on his lips and in his eyes.

"Yami – we're _free!_"

Yami smiled blandly, before falling once again into a crumpled heap on the ground.


End file.
